


“Oh god, you’re bleeding.”

by sunshineandsnow (orphan_account)



Series: if I fall and hurt myself, would you know how to fix me? [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Wanda gets hurt and Bucky is protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10053284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sunshineandsnow
Summary: purple-aeonontumblrsaid: "With the Hurt/Comfort prompts could you do #11? Like Wanda protecting Bucky in battle but she gets injured. And she tries to hide it but he finds out anyway. Something like that. Please? :D"





	

The bomb is set—he has five minutes to get the hell out of there—but on his way out, a stray batch of grunts keep him fighting. He’s too close to the blast zone. A few team members yell imperatives at him through his earpiece.

“Barnes, move your ass or get blown to pieces!” 

“I’m working on it,” he replies through gritted teeth, knocking out the last of the hired guns. He breaks into a run just as the bomb detonates. He hears it before he feels it: a loud bang, then a surge, throwing him to the ground. Shrapnel flies through the hot air, metal chunks hissing before burying into the ground, a few feet, some a few inches, from his head.

He pushes himself off the ground, blinking in confusion at a red haze flickering in the corner of his eye. Bucky swivels to see a huge slate of steel headed straight for him—only to watch it bounce away, harmlessly. He reaches out a hand. That red haze surrounds him, and it’s solid, a shield of hard light. Only one person he knows can do that…

Immediately, he catches sight of Wanda, standing behind him, a proud, yet sheepish smile on her face.

“The hell’re you doing here,” he exclaims, stumbling as another blast sounds in the distance. “You’re supposed to be with the team!” She moves a little closer, expanding the scarlet surrounding him. Her smile twists into an annoyed pout. 

“You’re welcome,” she shouts back, over the familiar barrage of gunfire. “If I hadn’t, that shrapnel would have gone _through_ you!”

“That’s not—” His words are cut short at the approach of another group of soldiers. On instinct, he steps closer to Wanda, pulling the both of them backwards in retreat. Their only chance is to get back to the team. The soldiers fire in their direction, bullets whizzing through the air. Bucky holds up his left arm as a desperate shield. Wanda doesn’t notice the men immediately—her powers falter before forming a red barrier around them once again. “Come on, we’re getting out of here!” Bucky tugs Wanda after him.

A third explosion allows them to get far enough away from the combatants. “Did Steve tell you come after me?” Bucky asks, exasperated. “I’ll kill him—the whole point was to keep the rest of you safe—”

“Rogers did not send me,” Wanda asserts, yanking her arm away from Bucky’s protective grip. “I came to help you because you _needed_ it.” Her steps slow and an expression of pain crosses her face. 

“What? What is it?” Worry floods his mind. She presses a hand to her abdomen, wincing at the action.

“I’m fine,” she says, picking up pace again, but he holds her back. 

“You’re not fine, you’re—” His eyes widen at the bit of blood seeping through her dress and onto her fingers. “Oh god, you’re bleeding.” 

“It’s not serious,” she says, angling herself away from him. 

“Hold it,” he growls. Another blast rocks the trees around them, quaking the ground. Shouts and expletives in a foreign tongue get carried on the wind. The soldier and the witch haven’t been forgotten. Bucky taps his earpiece. “Does anybody copy?” He hears muffled voices and muted gunfire. “Repeat—does anyone copy? I need an extract, _now_.” 

A familiar voice responds through the static. “There’s no one at your location,” Steve says, in the middle of what sounds like a fistfight. “We’re a little busy on our end—”

“I don’t care,” Bucky says. Wanda looks at him, surprised by the gruff interruption. “Wanda’s injured. Get us out of here.” 

There’s a bit of silence, then: “Alright. Find somewhere safe. Someone’ll be over as soon as possible.” 

The soldier assesses their surroundings. There are clusters of boulders making up a path up to the mountains—on the other side is the team’s means of transportation. The nooks of the cliffside can give the two of them some protection. After that, it’s a waiting game. 

“Come on,” Bucky whispers, grimacing at Wanda’s stance. Concentration is etched onto her pretty face, but her body looks weak. He gets on her good side and slings her arm around his neck, supporting the small of her back. 

“James,” she protests, looking like she’ll push him off. “I don’t need coddling—”

“Stop it,” he says, pulling her closer, getting her to lean some of her weight on him. “Let me help you.” His voice holds something imploring and urgent all at once. She gives in.

* * *

Hospitals have always made Bucky uncomfortable. He waits anxiously outside Wanda’s room, nursing a Styrofoam cup of tea that grows colder by the hour. She’d taken a bullet, but you’d have never known by the way she handled herself. She kept _him_ calm. Told him not to worry, in that rich accent of hers, saying, _worry is bad for the mind_. Psychic shit, like she was some palm-reader in one of the traveling circuses he’d haunted as a kid. 

He was worried when he first saw her, standing behind him, _protecting_ him, when she should’ve been protecting herself; staying safe with the team. He worried even more when he saw the blood, and those tense minutes with her among the rocks, trying to keep her conscious. _Talk to me,_ he’d pleaded. _Stay awake. Stay with me._  

She was strong—he’ll give her that. Now he just needs her to pull through. 

Bucky looks up as a nurse exits Wanda’s room and says to him: “She’s awake—you can go in if you like.” He nods, in what he hopes is a grateful manner, before entering.

The witch looks even smaller in the hospital bed. She shines a smile at him. He wants to laugh at how unaffected she seems, like getting shot is an everyday circumstance; like the most exciting aspect of all this is getting to see him walk through her door. 

“I told you it wasn’t serious,” she murmurs, drawing him closer with a shaky wave of her hand. 

He pulls a chair up to her bed, scoffing. “How is a bullet wound not serious? You’ve could’ve bled to death.” 

“Touché,” she responds, still smiling softly. “But you wouldn’t have let that happen.” 

There is such hope, such surety to her voice. He aches with the weight of her trust. But it stirs something in him, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Care, maybe? _Wanting_? He wants her safe, he knows that. As to why, he couldn’t say. But it’s in him, as deep and far-reaching as the memories and programming of the Soldier. It’s purer than that. Better. 

“No,” he finally says, leaning towards her. “I wouldn’t have.” 

It’s a promise, a vow. _I’ll never let that happen to you,_ he wants to say. They hold each other’s gazes for a few moments, silent. 

Wanda turns her hand palm-up on the bed. “Hold my hand, Bucky,” she says, quietly, hesitantly. He obliges, his heart racing. “I’m going to sleep,” she whispers, eyelids drooping. Her fingers curl over his, her breathing growing steady. 

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, grasping her hand a little tighter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Message my [tumblr](http://winterxblood.tumblr.com/ask)! Comments are always appreciated. :)


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